


Beer Goggles

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Ficlets: Supernatural [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Ficlet written to the prompt: destiel and ... drunk love confessions?





	Beer Goggles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suckerfordeansfreckles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckerfordeansfreckles/gifts).



"And then there's Cas!" Dean burst out.

The stranger froze, hands still clasped around the base of Dean's t-shirt, fingers achingly far from his skin.

"What about...Cas?" the man asked.

*Abort! Abort!*

"It nothing," Dean mumbled. The bass of the club's sound system thumped through the wall, through his boots, caused the bathroom stall doors to rattle and buzz. The man didn't resume undressing him, fuck Dean's life. He leaned forward to kiss his hook up, but the man dodged.

"What about Cas?" demanded the man.

"Nothing - he's no one - I just...I need this." Fuck, dude even sounded like Cas when he was angry, and maybe it was the beer goggles but he looked a little like Cas too, tanned skin and thick forearms and hair that looked black in the "atmospheric" bathroom lighting that obscured and cloaked a multitude of sins. "Please?" Dean emphasized the plea with a fumbling caress of the man's balls, and got a sinful moan by way of encouragement.

"Yeah...yeah, fine," the man mumbled, sliding his hands down Dean's torso as he eased down to his knees. "That feels...damn...but...but we'll talk later." 

*We will talk literally never.*

Fingers tugged at his pants, unzipped his fly, withdrew his dick.

*Why the fuck would we talk when there are so many better ways to use our mouths before we go our separate ways?* 

"We'll talk." The man's breath tickled the head of Dean's cock, and there was no more talking. Lips sealed around him, sucked, licked, not even bothering with a condom, fuck but this was the worst idea Dean had ever had, an anonymous hook up in a seedy club bathroom, surrounded by germs, and he made it worse because all he could imagine was Cas - Cas going down on him, Cas' nails raking down his belly, Cas' voice as he moaned arousal around Dean's aching cock, Cas' hair tangled around Dean's fingers.

"I dreamed about this," the man whispered, looking up at Dean through lust-blown eyes, chin coated with saliva, lines of spit attenuated between his lips and Dean's dick. "Want you so bad."

"Cas," Dean groaned, pulling the man back around his dick.

The man froze.

Because Dean had fucking moaned the wrong dude's name.

Fuck his life.

And then the man sucked, hard. Teeth scraped gently over painfully sensitive skin, that guttural, Cas-like voice vibrated around his length, and Dean was gone, spurting as he thrust, come going down the man's throat, spilling over his cheeks, tangling in his eye lashes.

Dean couldn't count how many times he'd fantasized about marking Cas *just like this,* and it was so hot, and so perfect, except it wasn't Cas, and fuck that hurt. But the man hadn't told Dean to go fuck himself when he'd said the wrong name, and for that if for nothing else, Dean would reciprocate what he'd been given.

"My tur--" Dean started hoarsely when the door opened and interrupted him.

"Castiel?" called a familiar voice. Called fucking *Sam.*

"I'm here," replied the man between Dean's legs.

Replied...Cas?

The fuck?

"You okay? Been in here a while..."

"Fine, thank you. I just had to take care of something. Unless you want details?"

It was Cas, and he sounded so fucking *with it,* and mostly sober, and hoarse from Dean fricken going to town in his throat, and Dean's come tangled and dripped with every blink of those eyes that looked black now, that had always been so distantly blue.

"No thanks," Sam said hastily, and thankfully fucked off, the door slamming behind him.

"Cas?" Dean whispered.

"In my defense, I thought you knew it was me before we came back here," said Cas.

"You...want me?"

"Desperately." Cas did, inconceivably, sound desperate.

"Even when you're sober?"

"I *am* sober," Cas said dryly. 

"And you want me?" Dean grew more incredulous by the second. There was no way. This was a delusion. Dean was never fucking drinking again.

By way of answer, a hand clasped Dean's, dragged him down to where Cas' cock bulged between his kneeling legs. "What do you think, Dean?"

As from no where, Cas' cell phone flashed on, illuminating his face.

Cas smiled at him.

Definitely, unmistakably, utterly Cas.

Smeared in Dean's come.

Dean wasn't sure how he moved in the confines of the bathroom stall, all he knew was one minute he was standing, cock going soft, and the next he had Cas backed in a corner, hot thick dick between his lips, and he'd never been happier.

They *would* talk later.

But first Dean had a cock to suck.

"Oh, fuck, Dean."

"Not yet, Cas," Dean murmured, mouth watering. "But maybe soon..."

And neither said anything for a long, long time.

At least not until Sam interrupted them.

Again.

Bitch.

But with Cas curled beside him, Dean couldn't bring himself to care about his brother, or the bad music, or the stinky bathroom, or the come in his mouth.

They curled together, saying nothing, comfortable with each other for the first time ever.

Maybe, the ice broken, they had nothing to say.

"So, Dean, if you didn't think I was...me...who did you think I was?"

...okay maybe they had a few things to work through...

"...well..."

And Dean would say those things, because Cas felt as he did, and Cas was worth it.

"I'm glad it was you, Cas."


End file.
